


He Drives Me Crazy, Like No One Else

by Obscure_ramblings



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Bottom Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Food, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Joe looks good in blue, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani and Nicky | Nicolò di Genova Acting Like a Married Couple, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani and Nicky | Nicolò di Genova are in Love, M/M, Public Display of Affection, Smut, Summer, Teasing, Top Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, True Love, Vacation, flirting as foreplay, yes i will put that tag on every work i write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:22:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29404041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obscure_ramblings/pseuds/Obscure_ramblings
Summary: In over nine hundred years walking this earth Nicky had come up against precisely one obstacle guaranteed to break his concentration. And that obstacle was, at present, standing before him in the kitchen, wearing the smallest, tightest pair of blue running shorts Nicky had ever seen. His brain fizzed as Joe came closer.In which Joe is an incurable romantic who uses flirting as foreplay, and Nicky gives as good as he gets.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 14
Kudos: 187





	He Drives Me Crazy, Like No One Else

**Author's Note:**

> Jumping on the 5+1 bandwagon! This starts off with five T-rated short scenes involving flirting as foreplay before segueing into a much longer +1 that earns the E rating, so if smut isn’t your scene feel free to skip that last section. Title from the song She Drives Me Crazy, by the Fine Young Cannibals. Translations in the end notes.
> 
> Part 4 was inspired by two things:  
> 1) [ This gorgeous sketch ](https://sunshineandchemistry.tumblr.com/post/637718898007015424/so-now-we-know-joe-came-back-to-goussainville-with) by sunshineandchemistry on Tumblr; thank you, Emily, for permitting me to link it here! Look how huge and expressive Joe’s eyes are in the third panel, and how cute their blushes are in the last panel! World's longest awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.  
> 2) [ This Tumblr post](https://silly-old-guard-aus.tumblr.com/post/634485438042800128/okay-im-not-sure-if-someone-else-has-said-this%E2%80%9D%20rel=) which I spent literal hours trying and failing to locate (s/o to Tumblr for your logic-defying system of tracking tags; it makes my brain feel the pain). And then someone random reblogged it onto my dash the day AFTER I posted this. The world works in mysterious ways.
> 
> As always, I love hearing from you in the comments section!

1.  
In over nine hundred years walking this earth Nicky had come up against precisely one obstacle guaranteed to break his concentration. And that obstacle was, at present, standing before him in the kitchen, wearing the smallest, tightest pair of blue running shorts Nicky had ever seen in his life, and expecting a coherent response to his question.

Nicky did not have a coherent response. In fact, he couldn’t remember the question. Had there been a question? His mouth was open, so he presumed he’d been intending to say something before his thoughts had been completely derailed. The smooth brown length of Joe’s legs seemed to stretch for miles, broken up only by the shorts, which clung to the lean muscles of his thighs. They were so small. And tight. And blue. Nicky always had been partial to Joe in blue. 

His brain fizzed as Joe came closer, stopping just short of the small puddle of sauce that had formed by Nicky’s feet, dripping off the end of the spoon he held clenched so tightly that his finger joints were turning white.

“Habibi?” Joe enquired and the sound of his voice kickstarted Nicky’s brain, bringing his awareness of the world outside the blue shorts back online. He cursed, sucking in his breath through his teeth as he noticed the sauce that had splattered not only onto the wooden floorboards but also all over the top of his right foot. Ow, Nicky thought ruefully. That sauce was hot. 

He looked back up to meet Joe’s eyes, crinkled at the corners from the smile tugging at his lips. “Uh. Could you repeat that?” Nicky asked.

Joe’s dimples deepened, peeking out from behind his short, dark beard, and he winked at Nicky. “I said, ‘Have you seen my hat?’ I’m going out for a run.”

“Oh. Yes, it is on top of the books over there,” Nicky pointed towards the small table tucked between a pair of comfortable, well-worn armchairs in the corner of the living room. Turning back to the stove, he saw that his formerly smooth, lushly red sauce was now flecked with black specks of charcoal and had bubbled over the top of the pot at one side. There would be no saving it. Nicky sighed and turned off the element. 

“Want to come with me?” Joe asked, retrieving his hat and positioning it backwards on his head as he walked towards Nicky. A small tuft of curly hair poked through the gap above the snaps. Nicky reached up to stroke it with a finger, savouring the springy softness. Joe had been letting his hair grow out during their four-month-long break between missions. Nicky was enjoying it.

He dropped his hand back down and gestured behind himself. “Unfortunately, it seems I have a stove to clean. And a second attempt to make at preparing lunch.” 

Joe was clearly trying to suppress his smile now, in response to the chagrined expression on Nicky’s face. He leaned in for another quick kiss, “Sorry, my heart, I didn’t mean to distract you. Do you want help cleaning up?”

Nicky just flapped a hand at Joe, shooing him away. Joe held up both his hands, fingers splayed, in a gesture of surrender, and backed out of the kitchen, turning around once he passed the doorway and making his way towards the front door to collect his running shoes.

***

2.  
The syrupy heat of the mid-summer day lay draped over the town. Nicky felt a trickle of sweat slide down his spine as he and Joe walked down the cobbled streets of the town. When they reached their destination the glass doors parted silently on their runners, and the waves of cool air that billowed out were a sweet relief. Nicky collected a basket from the stack adjacent to the entryway, then hooked its handle over the arm Joe held out in his direction. Drawing a list from his pocket, Nicky consulted it as he led the way through the aisles of the store, collecting ingredients and chatting idly with Joe about their plans for the rest of the day.

One final item remaining to be located, Nicky stood muttering to himself under his breath as he scanned the selection in the cheese department. Supermarkets would never match the quality of fresh made dairy products from a farmers’ market. He eventually picked up a mozzarella, deeming it marginally acceptable, and turned to place it in the basket, only to find Joe had moved. Back turned towards Nicky, he had a hip propped against a glass-lidded freezer decorated with colourful images of hands holding cones topped with scoops of ice cream. Shuffling the contents of the basket around to make space, Joe slid the freezer open and extracted a rectangular box striped in luridly bright shades. Looking up to find Nicky’s eyes on him, Joe flashed a grin and tilted his head in invitation for Nicky to approach.

Stacking the mozzarella on top of a bag of flour in the basket Joe held out to him, Nicky flashed a wicked little smile as he folded his shopping list and slid it into the front pocket of Joe’s shorts, brushing his pink finger along the crease of Joe’s thigh in the process. Joe’s sharp inhalation made Nicky’s smile widen, teeth on display as he extracted his hand slowly. He turned to walk to the checkout, doing a little skip to avoid colliding with a display of citrus fruit, then glanced over his shoulder to see—as he’d anticipated—that Joe’s eyes were trained on the bounce of his ass produced by the movement. If he tilted his hips back in a subtle display of invitation while he unpacked their groceries onto the conveyer belt? Well. That was between him and Joe.

***

3.  
Food purchased, bagged and distributed between them, Nicky and Joe exited the store and turned left, angling towards their current temporary residence. As they passed a bench positioned to the side of the pavement, Nicky paused, using it to prop up his bags so he could rummage around and extract two gelato bars from the box Joe had chosen. When the wrappers were removed, one turned out to be a sunny yellow and the other a positively eye-blinding shade of red. He offered both icy treats to Joe, giving him first choice of the flavours. “Which one would you like to have, amore mio?” he enquired.

Joe flicked a wicked grin in his direction, then leaned in to circle the tip of his tongue around the top of each one in turn, maintaining eye contact with Nicky as he did so. “Hmmm,” he pulled back, adopting a serious expression and pretending to consider his options, “I liked the passionfruit one, but the cherry was also quite good. Perhaps a second taste will help me to resolve this conundrum.”

He leaned in again and this time slid his lips down the full length of the red one, not stopping until his lips, chilled from the ice, met the side of Nicky’s hand. Nicky’s gut clenched, desire stirring as Joe’s soft tongue licked against the side of his palm. His light green gaze was fastened firmly on Joe’s mouth as Joe pulled back, tongue flickering out to capture a creamy droplet before it slid into his beard. Nicky swallowed audibly, throat bobbing, as Joe flashed a blinding smile at him before diving across to slip his mouth down the length of the yellow gelato too. 

Nicky closed his eyes out of self-preservation. “Madre di dio,” he whispered under his breath as Joe’s lips once more met the side of his fingers. Feeling Joe lingering in this position, Nicky opened his eyes, darker now, stormy heat rising. He angled the gelato in his free hand to the side so he could stretch out a finger to stroke against Joe’s throat, feeling it constrict as Joe swallowed around the frozen length. 

A sudden, sharp yapping coming from a small dog racing by in the street broke the moment, and both men became aware of their surroundings once more. Joe pulled back quickly, wiping his mouth with his hand as Nicky glanced around to make sure no one had been watching the display they’d gotten caught up in.

The street was largely deserted, most pedestrians opting to avoid the sun that lay directly overhead by escaping into the artificial chill of air-conditioning. Only one older woman, pinned-back grey hair peeking out from under the pale turquoise parasol she held shading her face, was within eyeshot, strolling sedately along the footpath on the other side of the road. As she drew even with them she lifted the parasol up far enough to throw a cheeky wink and a grin at them, giggling like a schoolgirl as she took in Nicky’s abashed expression and pink cheeks. He tossed the half-eaten gelatos into a nearby bin and shook the melted drops off his palm. The woman’s giggle turned into a full-blown laugh as Joe performed a courtly bow in her direction, winking back at her as he reached behind him to grab Nicky’s sticky hand and drag him along the street. Nicky quickly reached out with his free hand to pick up his shopping bags as they hastened to escape the scene.

Joe’s loud, uninhibited laugh echoed back from the buildings towering overhead as they ducked into a shaded side alley, taking a shortcut back to their house. Nicky couldn’t help grinning in response, snorting out a little laugh of his own as he gripped Joe’s hand tightly, sticky palms glued together with the remains of the gelato.

***

4.  
Back at their house, sweat beading on their brows after the hasty exit from their impromptu public display of affection, Joe handed over his shopping bags and ducked into the bathroom to rinse off the remains of gelato. Nicky went to the kitchen, depositing the bags on the counter and washing his hands, running a wet palm down his neck before drying off with a tea towel.

Unpacking their purchases, he stored each item in its correct place. Joe knew not to interfere with this process, having been on the receiving end of many a heated rant when Nicky was cooking and couldn’t find an ingredient because Joe had put it somewhere illogical. Who stores honey in the pantry, really, tesoro? After nine-hundred-plus years Nicky would think Joe could remember that ants exist, and that fridges do too, and that as mighty as ants may be relative to their body size, they cannot physically open a fridge door and march right into the honey container like they do when it’s sitting in the open on a shelf of the pantry, _Yusuf_.

Task completed, Nicky rolled up the reusable totes and stashed them in the bowl next to the front door, which also held their keys and various small items each of them had accumulated in the several weeks they’d spent here thus far.

Joe was still nowhere in sight so Nicky picked up the book he had started reading the previous evening, taking it with him as he returned to the kitchen and pulled out one of the dark wooden chairs set around the table. The light spilling through the single stained-glass panel positioned above the plain glass of the rest of the windows cast coloured striations across the floor as Nicky settled in and opened the book, laying aside the worn bookmark that displayed a pair of lambs gambolling across a lush field of green grass and daffodils.

He’d finished a chapter and begun the next when Joe reappeared and began rummaging around, sorting through drawers, evidently in search of something. Nicky turned a page and tuned out the background noises of metal clanking against metal and paper rustling, Joe muttering under his breath in a mix of Farsi and English. 

A few minutes later, Nicky became aware of Joe having moved around the kitchen to stand at his side. He leaned a little towards Joe to acknowledge him but kept his eyes on the page.

“Hold this for me, would you, habibi?” Joe’s voice was warm, and Nicky could tell from the cadence that he was smiling. Nicky flicked to the next page then held out his right hand, palm open to take whatever item Joe was offering.

Instead, Joe’s warm, slightly callused grip threaded through his fingers. As Nicky registered the absence of anything separating their palms, his expression turned soft and he looked up to meet Joe’s eyes. The love radiating from their dark depths make him feel warm all over, and he used the hand he held to reel Joe in for a kiss.

“Joe,” Nicky pulled back just far enough to say his name, “My incurable romantic.” The next kiss was a little deeper, Nicky’s tongue flicking against Joe’s lower lip, the familiar dichotomy of the rough-yet-soft beard sparking nerve endings awake.

Breaking the kiss, Joe freed his hand from Nicky’s and placed it on the back of the chair, his other hand moving down to grip the edge of the seat between Nicky’s thighs. His arm muscles flexed as he pulled the chair—and Nicky—around to face him, sitting across Nicky’s legs and leaning in to press their foreheads together, one hand threading through the hair at Nicky’s nape and the other cradling his jaw.

“Amore mio. Cuore mio. Tutto mio.”

***

5.  
Mouthfuls of flavourful manicotti and steamed broccoli, fresh bread layered with butter melting into its soft warmth, evening closing in and bringing a respite from the unrelenting heat of the day.

Joe retrieved the slice of lime Nicky had hooked over the rim of his glass of tropical juice, drinking down the last of the liquid then clamping the lime between his teeth, wincing a little at the sour flavour but clearly relishing the juxtaposition of sweet and tart nonetheless. “Thank you for dinner, habibi.”

“I am glad you enjoyed it.” Nicky lingered over the last of his red wine as Joe cleared the table and filled the sink with water and dish soap, humming a little snippet of a tune to himself. He tracked each of Joe’s movements with his eyes, the rest of him relaxed, broad shoulders propped against the back of his chair, forearms resting on the table and legs spread comfortably beneath. 

When Nicky had finished the final sip he stood to bring his wine glass over to the counter. Joe had been washing the same saucepan for several minutes as he stared out the window, lost in thought, face calm aside from a slight tightening between his eyebrows. Probably mapping out his next artwork, seeing the lines forming under his brushes or pencils, considering options for the colour palette.

Fortunately, Nicky knew from long experience just how to reclaim his attention. He leaned the full weight of his body against Joe’s back, bringing his arms up underneath Joe’s to envelop him in a hug. As Joe zoned back in and leaned to rub the side of his head against Nicky’s, Nicky buried his face in the springy curls tickling his ear, inhaling deeply and sighing out a breath in pleasure at the familiar scent of his Yusuf. 

Then Joe turned in his arms and carefully deposited a blob of bubbles on the tip of Nicky’s long, Roman nose. Nicky’s eyes crossed as he watched Joe’s movement, then refocused as Joe withdrew his hand and reached behind himself to scoop up another handful of bubbles, this time arranging them in a pile on top of the tousled brown spikes of Nicky’s hair. Another handful was carefully positioned on top of the first. After the third addition the tower became too unstable and surrendered to gravity, sliding to the side and dripping down behind Nicky’s ear.

A ticklish trickle slid along the side of his neck to dampen the fabric stretched across the width of his shoulders. Nicky shivered at the sensation, then shook his head, sending bubbles flying in all directions as Joe laughed and tried to dodge. The bubbles caught in his beard glistened in the light from the fixture overhead, and Nicky couldn’t stop a fond smile spreading across his face. He leaned his body into Joe’s again, this time front-to-front, and gripped him in a tight hug, feeling unbearably fond. 

“Ah, tesoro, vita mia, life is always a joy, when I am with you.”

***

+1  
Nicky had been up first today, as usual, pressing a gentle kiss against Joe’s temple before he left to walk down to the beach just a few minutes away from their house. Sitting on a rock anchored above the shifting, pale sand dotted with shells and other ocean-borne curiosities, Nicky looked out over the water. The sun was just barely breaking the horizon below fluffy clouds, painting the sky with curves of red, pink, orange. 

Gaze tracking the shifting light as it arrayed across the sky, Nicky let his mind wander, basking in the bone-deep intimacy that was the sound of the sea. Several small fishing vessels were bobbing along atop the waves below him, laden down with the day’s catch. Perhaps he and Joe would go to the market today, weave through the stalls and find exactly the right fish to make cacciucco for their evening meal. But that was for later. Right now, it was breakfast time. 

A small bell jingled above the door as he entered the bakery, calling out a greeting to the barista behind the counter. The coffee was good, that was true, but Nicky returned to this particular store again and again for one specific reason: they made biscotti with figs. Figs!

Even after so many centuries, Nicky still remembered the unparalleled joy of sharing the first figs of the season’s crop with his mamma. His father had planted several fruit trees alongside their house in rural Genoa shortly after the wedding, and Mamma treasured each one, tending them with utmost care until they flourished in the Mediterranean heat. She told Nicolò the same story every year, as they collected the sweet, teardrop-shaped fruits. He could no longer remember Mamma’s face, or Papà’s; had, in fact, forgotten their names, but the taste of figs always made them feel closer.

Joe knew the story too, had heard the fragments of Nicky’s early memories countless times but was always willing to listen again, absorbing every small recollection about those bare three decades of life before they met; their lives were now so intertwined that at times it was hard to attribute any given memory to just one of them. Joe never failed to buy figs for Nicky when he saw them at a market or store, and he always repeated the story of Mamma’s trees as he fed Nicky sweet slivers of the fruit, pressing them inside his mouth and chasing them with kisses as they shared the floral, honeyed sweetness underlaid with the taste of each other.

Placing his espresso cup on top of the plate, now empty but for a few golden biscotti crumbs, Nicky waved through the front window to the barista, then picked up the brown paper bag he’d placed on the table. He wove between the round tables positioned on the patio and merged with the small amount of foot traffic already treading the pavement, heading towards their house.

Closing the door behind himself and dropping his keys on the small table just inside the door, Nicky took off his shoes and lined them up next to Joe’s. The calm stillness of the house was reassuring, Joe likely still asleep at this time of the morning. Nicky went to the kitchen, extracting the sticky pastry dotted with raisins from the paper bag and putting it on a plate before making his way into the bedroom.

As he had expected, Joe was fast asleep, sprawled on top of the rumpled sheets. He lay flat on his back, limbs akimbo in the way he slept only when he was absent the steady shape of Nicky’s body to wrap himself around. His dark curls spread riotously, standing out in stark contrast the pale fabric of the pillowcase, and his mouth, parted just a little as he breathed deeply, was soft and pink above his beard. Arms relaxed, one hand lay across his lower abdomen, the other loose at his side. Light brown skin dotted with freckles and the occasional small scar from his first few decades of life, crinkly black body hair dusted lightly across his chest, a faint trail below his navel spreading out much thicker in the cradle of his thighs, then tapering down again into a thinner fur over the long length of his legs. Left leg stretched straight down the bed, the other bent at the knee and angled out to the side, cock soft and resting against the crease of his thigh, rounded sac plump beneath. Joe in repose was too tempting to resist.

Nicky placed the pastry and plate on Joe’s nightstand and discarded his clothes before climbing onto the bed, sliding into place at Joe’s side and nuzzling into his neck to inhale deeply of his sleep-soft scent. Joe woke slowly, as always, body shifting languorously, eyes still closed as he stretched, tipping his chin up to invite Nicky’s continued attention. Nicky obliged, licking a stripe up the column of his neck, one hand sweeping across the broad expanse of Joe’s chest, tracing the curve of his ribcage then thumbing over the flat peak of a dusky nipple. 

“Mmmph…Ahhh, yes.” Joe’s half-hearted grumble of complaint at being pulled from slumber segued into a much more appreciative moan as Nicky levered himself up to lie stretched across the full length of Joe’s body, face still tucked into Joe’s neck, chest, tummies, groins and legs pressed together. One of Joe’s arms came up, wrapping around Nicky’s side and across his lower back to help anchor him in place. His cock twitched below Nicky, filling and lengthening.

Nicky lifted his head up, smoothed back a lock of Joe’s hair and kissed each eyelid in turn. “Yusuf, amore mio, open your eyes.” Joe obliged, dark brown connecting with pale green, the calm surety of love returned burning bright. Centuries of learning each other, loving each other. They moved as one, heads angling to meet in a kiss.

Nicky shifted his weight, letting gravity draw his legs down to drape around Joe’s sides. Joe responded by lifting his knees up, bracing his feet against the sheet bunched up beneath them, gaining enough traction to roll his hips and move Nicky until he was sitting directly on top of the thick, hot line of Joe’s cock.

“Unh,” the noise Nicky made as he broke the kiss was soft but deep, wrenched from his throat as he felt Joe rubbing against him. He leaned over to reach the nightstand, Joe’s hands anchoring him in place as his thigh muscles flexed, balancing precariously. Seizing the bottle of lube, Nicky flicked the cap open with his thumb, pouring some onto his fingers and reaching back to slide one inside himself.

Joe extracted the lube from Nicky’s hand and squeezed some out for himself, circling around the base of Nicky’s finger with his own, twining with it and then pressing inside too. Nicky’s hips rocked forward involuntarily as the combined pressure of their fingers stretched him open. Joe was looking at him with an expression of awe. Nine hundred years and Nicky never got tired of bringing out that reaction, of being the object of Joe’s adoration. Adding another finger before the next press in, Nicky watched Joe’s face closely, every small twitch of muscle memorised and catalogued.

Joe’s focus broke. Snippets of poetry and praise burst forth from his lips as Nicky pulled their fingers free, then lifted Joe’s cock into position, taking his full length inside in one smooth motion. “Oh, ya amar, habibi, you are so tight, you surround me and nourish me, warm me, I am lost in you and found again, uh, oh, yes.” 

Nicky set a steady pace, legs flexing and hips working as he lifted and dropped, one hand on Joe’s lower abdomen, the other teasing against his own chest, pinching and rolling a pale brown nipple between two fingers. Joe’s voice faltered, concentrating on matching Nicky’s rhythm, the advance and retreat, hands spanning Nicky’s hips, fingers testing the resilience of the soft, taut flesh.

Dropping his hand down from his chest to grip his cock, Nicky stroked slowly, watching as Joe tracked the movement. Joe swallowed, licked his lips, and Nicky knew he was imagining taking the length into his mouth. Deprived of that option, Joe instead rolled Nicky’s tightly furled balls over the backs of his fingers as he pressed his thumb below them, pressure constant, holding firm even when Nicky’s hips jerked, knocked off his rhythm by the jolt of sensation. 

“Yusuf.” Nicky’s tone was deep, strained, drawing in a sharp breath. Moving his free hand to brace against the bed under Joe’s arm, Nicky picked up the pace with his hips, fucking into his hand, precome smoothing the way for his strokes as Joe worked to keep up, thumb now tucking against Nicky’s rim where it was stretched so wide around his cock. Letting out a choked groan, Nicky’s whole body tensed and he came in messy streaks, striping Joe with his release. Joe fucked him through it, regaining his hold on both of Nicky’s hips as he chased his own orgasm.

Just on the verge of overstimulation, thighs shaking with exertion, Nicky ground out in his sex-rough voice, “Amore mio, come for me.”

“Yes. Nicolò. Ya amar. Yes.” Joe thrust, thrust again, then stiffened, holding Nicky down onto him as he pushed up once more and came in a hot, wet rush. His fingers pressed deep dents into Nicky’s skin and Nicky tightened around him, drawing out the peak. 

Joe’s expression softened as he came down from the high, lines on his brow smoothing out, crinkles around his eyes relaxing, mouth open as he panted. Lifting up slowly, movement extracting a low hiss from Joe, Nicky rolled to his side, cuddling into Joe and hiking one leg up and over his thigh. A trickle of come slid out of him and pooled on his thigh, trailing between the hairs there to wend its way along Joe’s hip as well before reaching the sheets. Joe shivered at the ticklish sensation, drawing a quiet laugh from Nicky.

He nosed in behind Joe’s ear, licking a bead of sweat off his neck then nuzzling against the small wet patch, breathing warm air over it to draw out another shudder from Joe. Joe retaliated by stroking a finger lightly down Nicky’s lower ribs, making him squirm and wriggle to escape the gentle tease. Joe ducked his head to catch Nicky’s mouth in a sweet, soft kiss. Nicky sighed into his mouth, replete and satisfied.

The loud rumble of Joe’s stomach interrupted the moment, announcing insistently that it was ready to be fed. Nicky laughed and rolled over to grab the plate from the nightstand. He positioned it on Joe’s chest and gestured with a hand for Joe to dig in. “Breakfast too? You are spoiling me, habibi.” Joe grinned widely, taking a bite of the sweet bun.

Nicky watched as he chewed and swallowed, listening to the little groans of enjoyment Joe made. Then he reached a finger out and ran it through the icing at the edge of the pastry. Meeting Joe’s gaze, he slowly sucked the finger into his mouth, licking around the digit until no trace of the sticky glaze remained. Joe swallowed again, although there was no pastry in his mouth this time. He looked at Nicky, looked at the pastry, looked back at Nicky, then tossed the plate aside and rolled Nicky over onto his back, growling as he moved, Nicky’s giggles encouraging him all the way.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations are all sourced from an online translator and cross-checked with another online translator in an attempt to verify the accuracy, but please do let me know if I’ve gotten any of them wrong. I’d love to make sure I’m using them correctly here and in my other fics!  
> Habibi = Beloved  
> Madre di dio = Mother of god  
> Tesoro = Treasure  
> Amore mio. Cuore mio. Tutto mio = My love. My heart. My all.  
> Vita mia = My life  
> Ya amar = My love


End file.
